


Dirty Talk

by Writcraft



Series: Rainy Day Ficlets [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward First Times, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Hopeful Ending, Hung Harry Potter, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-03 01:10:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: Harry is rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco's mouth.





	Dirty Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoldenTruth813](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/gifts).



> Written for Janel for a prompt of 'dirty talk' and 'first times' left in response to my call for prompts to while away a rainy afternoon. I hope you enjoy it, lovely! Thank you for a very inspiring prompt.

It comes to Harry’s attention on a rainy Wednesday afternoon that Draco Malfoy has an exquisitely filthy mouth. If you asked Harry about his type a few months ago, posh, annoying twat would have been at the bottom of the list. He’s not sure if it’s the rain making him stir crazy or the fact he’s been holed up in a tiny office with Malfoy for the past forty-eight hours, but his proximity to someone who takes great pleasure in describing himself as _Potter’s arch nemesis_ has somehow resulted in a feverish bout of horniness and a growing obsession with Malfoy’s lips.

Malfoy draws out the word _fuck_ with such lofty, arrogant elegance that every insolent curl of his lips is enough to make Harry break out in a sweat. It’s the combination of Malfoy’s expensive drawl and crisp enunciation, the knowing slant of his smirk and the way his eyes graze over every inch of Harry’s body that does it. Harry has lost a good half an hour and a perfectly decent piece of parchment to some aggressive doodling inspired by a stoic refusal to contemplate other things Malfoy’s obnoxious mouth might be good at doing. Even Malfoy’s insults are starting to sound like porn. Malfoy’s elongated vowels and the snap of his consonants have highlighted a fetish for a public school boy accent that Harry didn’t even realise he possessed.

“I’m so fucking bored,” Malfoy says. He slides his wand between long, distracting fingers as he speaks. The movement does nothing to temper Harry’s growing arousal. “Dawlish is a prick.”

Harry swallows back a prim condemnation of Malfoy’s excessive use of expletives, largely because he doesn’t want Malfoy to pick up on why Harry is suddenly so confronted by curses of the non-magical variety. 

“Like him or not, he’s in charge. Stop being an arse.” Harry’s tone is brusquer than he intended, the gruffness in part the result of trying to shove Malfoy back where he belongs, in the _people I have no business shagging_ box.

Malfoy stands and stretches. “It’s just an observation. Relax, for fucks sake. You’re so uptight, Potter. Perhaps you need to get laid?”

“Shut it, Malfoy.” Heat flares in Harry’s cheeks and he turns the page of his book quickly, hoping Malfoy doesn’t notice his reaction. He doesn’t know why Malfoy’s even hanging around in the first place. This is Harry’s case, and it’s not like he needs any extra assistance. For some unknown reason Malfoy just appeared in his office with two coffees and proceeded to make scathing observations about Harry’s research methods at every given opportunity. He’s been lounging around like he’s posing for an oil painting and driving Harry to distraction with his wanky accent ever since. 

“Do you even do that?” Malfoy asks, curious.

“Do what?” Harry closes his book, because he’s clearly not going to get anything useful done with Malfoy badgering him like a very wealthy sounding gnat.

“Do you _fuck_?” Malfoy rolls his eyes, deciding to answer his own question. “Of course you don’t. I expect you probably make love. Gryffindors are so vanilla.”

Despite the fact that Harry’s most exciting sexual experiences to date haven’t gone much beyond a kinky dream about Oliver Wood and a number of enthusiastic wanks, he resents the implication that Gryffindors are somehow lacking. Trust Malfoy to turn shagging into a point-scoring exercise. The thrill of sparring with Malfoy invigorates him and Harry tries to look bored. If he can beat Malfoy to the Snitch, he can beat him at this too. Whatever _this_ is. 

“You wouldn’t know the first thing about what I like.” Harry stands to put himself on eye-level with Malfoy, who doesn’t appear ruffled by the conversation in the slightest.

Malfoy gets his _I know a lot about everything_ look. “I think I could hazard a guess.”

“Oh?” Harry folds his arms and glares at Malfoy. “Go on, then.”

Malfoy’s sinful lips purse thoughtfully. “You probably like a nice, comfortable bed and whispering sweet nothings to your beloved. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you get off talking about noble deeds.” Malfoy puts on a high-pitched, breathy tone. “Ooh, Potter! List out your charitable endeavours for me. I love how _hard_ do-gooding makes you.”

Harry knows Malfoy is taking the piss, but he can’t help the enthusiastic twitch his cock gives when Malfoy pretends to talk dirty. He wonders what a litany of filth might sound like spilling from Malfoy’s lips, without the false breathlessness. A flash of desire runs through Harry’s body as he imagines the way Malfoy’s lazy haughtiness might become rough and unsteady in the heat of the moment. Despite himself, he unfolds his arms and moves closer to Malfoy, the pull inwards almost magnetic. “Not quite.”

“No?” Malfoy’s amused expression shifts to something else Harry can’t quite place. He looks almost hungry, his eyes dark as he holds Harry’s gaze. “Filthier than that?”

“Much.” Harry’s voice is rough around the edges and he doesn’t have the first clue what he’s doing, but he knows that he wants Malfoy to keep talking. He shifts closer still, the heat from Malfoy’s slender frame warming the space between them. 

“You’re used to flattery.” Malfoy mercifully loses the affected pitch and his voice takes on a raw gruffness which slides over Harry’s body and leaves his skin tingling like the thrum of magic in a room after dueling practice. “I bet you love it when people tell you how well-endowed you are.”

Harry snorts with laughter because _honestly_ , Malfoy is such a little shit. “Yeah, Malfoy, that’s right. You’ve got it in one.”

Malfoy gives Harry a sharp, challenging smile. He puts his hand on Harry’s belt, his voice low. “You’re so _big_.” His fingers slide over the now unmistakable bulge in Harry’s jeans and he sucks in a breath, his eyes flaring with surprise. “ _Fuck_. Trust you to be hung like a Hungarian Horntail. You’re so insufferable. Do you have to be good at everything?”

Harry grins. He lifts a tentative hand to Malfoy’s face, brushing his thumb over his lips and drinking in the way they part invitingly at the light touch. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a filthy mouth, Malfoy?”

“You like that, don’t you?” There’s a note of triumph in Malfoy’s tone. His voice lowers until it’s rich, filthy and expensive. “What other things do you like, _Harry_?” Malfoy presses close, hard and insistent against Harry’s thigh. “Do you like being fucked until you forget your own name?”

“I haven’t worked that out, yet,” Harry says, honestly. He prepares himself for Malfoy’s ridicule but instead Malfoy slides his hands up to Harry’s chest and pushes him back a little, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Excuse me?” Malfoy’s cheeks are pink, and his appearance rumpled, despite the fact Harry hasn’t touched him yet. _Yet_. Harry wonders when touching Malfoy became the inevitable conclusion to this odd game they're playing.

Harry shrugs. “I haven’t done much of anything if you must know.” 

“But you want to with me?” Malfoy looks as if he doesn’t quite believe it. “Why?”

“No idea.” Harry tugs Malfoy close, letting the flex and twist of Malfoy’s cool magic slide against his skin. It mingles with Harry’s magic in a way which sparks another pulse of desire. “That mouth of yours, for a start.” 

No matter how hard he tries, Harry can’t lift his gaze from Malfoy’s lips. Even Malfoy’s smile is appallingly attractive; bright and wide. Harry hasn’t ever wanted to kiss anyone quite so badly in his life. He wonders if Malfoy tastes like the coffee he drinks by the gallon or the expensive Muggle mints he carries around with him. He smells faintly of cigarette smoke, citrus and a light, unfamiliar cologne. Harry wants to breathe him in, until all of his senses are finely attuned to Malfoy.

Malfoy’s smile turns insolent and he gives Harry a pointed stare. “I haven’t even let you put my mouth to good use yet.”

“ _God_.” With a groan, Harry pulls Malfoy close to shut him up for a minute. The kiss is far more natural than it should be, given the history between them. The dizzying realisation _I’m kissing Draco Malfoy_ only spurs Harry on. The years of fight and fire seem to pour themselves into one mind-melting kiss, the intensity of which leaves Harry breathless and boneless. Malfoy gives as good as he gets, those perfect, maddening lips working against Harry’s with practiced ease. Their tongues meet as the kiss becomes harder and heavier, open-mouthed and breathless until it’s hardly a kiss at all. They yank at one another’s clothes and grip on to one another, pulling, pushing and getting almost as close as two people can be. Malfoy pushes Harry back towards the wall, grinding against him and shoving his hands into Harry’s hair to pull him deeper into the kiss. It occurs to Harry as he tips his head back and Malfoy works his mouth over Harry’s neck that they fit together just right. 

There’s nothing soft about Malfoy in life, or in sex it seems. He’s all sharp edges and hard, demanding kisses. Just as he barged into Harry’s office and filled the small space with his infuriating opinions and posh, sexy tone, he closes the space between them again with a restless hunger. As tempting as it is to lose himself completely in the heat of Malfoy’s kisses, Harry gives as good as he gets in response even as his body zings and shivers with wave after wave of desire. He’s so hard it’s difficult to think straight, his body moving almost unprompted against Malfoy’s own. He unbuttons Malfoy’s shirt with clumsy fingers, pushing the collar open and fastening his mouth against Malfoy’s exposed neck. He tastes the reckless pulse that beats beneath his lips, bites and sucks at Malfoy’s soft skin and slides his hands over every part of Malfoy’s body which responds to his touch. _Like flying a broom_ , Harry thinks dimly. Being like this with Malfoy is as instinctive to Harry as flying; as perfectly liberating as twisting into the clouds and soaring through the sky. Eventually they break apart and Malfoy looks even better than before. There’s a louche decadence to the upward tilt of his smile, and his lips are even more appealing to Harry now they're pink and well-kissed. There’s the faintest hint of self-satisfaction in Malfoy’s smile, the trace of cool arrogance in the way he arches his brow and stares at Harry as he catches his breath. Most striking of all though, is the momentary vulnerability as he brushes Harry’s hair from his forehead seemingly lost for words as he takes in the fading signs of the lightning bolt etched on Harry's skin.

The moment of openness leaves Malfoy's face, his expression closed once more and his voice quiet. “I’m going to suck your cock, Potter. Then you’re going to take me home and fuck me until we have to come back to the real world.”

The phrasing makes Harry strangely sad and he watches as Malfoy sinks to his knees in one elegant motion, the sharp, filthy smirk back in place. There’s a confidence to Malfoy’s demeanour that doesn’t ring quite true – an impenetrable mask of indifference that slips back into place.

“Is fucking not something we do in the real world?” Harry murmurs. He touches Malfoy’s chin, tipping his head back until he meets Harry’s gaze, his eyes stormy. Malfoy’s jaw works, and the mask slips a little, the hunger back on his face before it disappears in a flash.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” Harry touches his thumb against Malfoy’s lips again, enjoying the way they part under the gentle pressure. “Feels pretty real to me.”

Malfoy sighs and mutters something about Gryffindors under his breath, shaking his head. He extracts his wand and flicks it, murmuring a spell. The air in the room hits Harry’s thighs and the wall is cool against his bare backside. 

“Draco,” Malfoy says. He licks his lips, his eyes dark as he meets Harry’s gaze. “If you insist on making this _something_ , the least you can do is call me Draco.” He slides his tongue along Harry’s cock, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Harry’s thighs. “Say my name.”

“Draco.” Harry pushes his fingers into Draco’s hair and the shape of the name on his lips feels more intimate and telling than anything which went before. “ _Draco_.”

Any further words leave Harry in a gasp as Draco takes him into his mouth. The tight, wet heat is better than anything Harry has ever felt before, his hands involuntarily tightening in Draco’s hair. That pulls a moan from Draco, which sends vibrations through Harry’s cock and he pushes into Draco’s mouth with a bitten-off groan of pleasure. He forces himself to stay back against the wall instead of thrusting into Draco’s mouth. He feels instinctively it's probably not polite to shove himself into Draco's mouth to chase his own pleasure. Eventually Draco finds a rhythm and encourages Harry to move in shallow thrusts by pressing his fingers deeper into Harry’s thighs. If Draco’s mouth looks good when he’s saying dirty things to Harry, it looks even better wrapped around Harry’s cock. It’s startlingly intimate and filthy, watching his cock slide slowly between Draco’s lips which are so frequently occupied with making biting comments and throwing them in Harry’s general direction. There’s something almost serene in Draco’s expression, a concentration as he clutches onto Harry and leaves his cock slick and aching. Draco eventually relaxes his grip on Harry’s thighs and works his hands up to Harry’s backside. The squeeze and press of his fingers into the soft flesh of Harry’s arse brings Harry closer to the edge, a sharp jolt of desire pulsing through him as Draco’s finger tentatively brushes over his hole. 

It’s blissfully good, but it isn’t practiced. Harry doesn’t miss the way Draco struggles with the length and girth of him, he doesn’t miss the flush in his cheeks or the determined focus as he works over Harry. It dimly occurs to Harry that for all Draco’s talk, he might be no more experienced than Harry. The idea fills him with unexpected warmth, the jealous knot in his stomach at the thought of all the other men that came before Harry slowly untangling. The dawning realisation that Draco was trying to impress Harry with his worldly knowledge gives rise to a possessive ball of affection which settles deep in Harry’s chest and he jerks forward into Draco’s throat, cursing as he comes with unexpected speed.

“Shit.” Harry leans back against the wall, closing his eyes and catching his breath. “Sorry,” he manages, when he can speak again.

“Thanks for the warning, Potter.” Draco leans back on his heels and watches Harry. He looks wrecked. His hair is tousled and there are red blotches on his neck from where Harry’s mouth explored every inch of his pale skin just moments before.

“Come here.” Harry holds out a hand and he tugs Draco to his feet, pushing him back against the wall and kissing him soundly. Draco tastes like salt, sweat and man, his lips hot and eager against Harry’s. 

Instinctively, Harry slips his hand into Draco’s trousers and wraps a hand around him. He takes a moment to enjoy the hard, unfamiliar length of Draco’s cock, before sliding his hand in a way which seems to elicit the best response from Draco. It’s not long before Draco spills over Harry’s fist. Even though it's a bit damp, sticky and awkward, it’s up there with the best moments of Harry’s life and comfortably eclipses all prior romantic encounters. 

“Am I still taking you home?” Harry asks.

Draco’s jaw works and he studies Harry. “If you still want to,” he says. It’s careful, flippant and Harry doesn’t believe Draco’s bollocks for a minute.

“I want,” Harry replies. It's the absolute truth. He does wants to take Draco home, so they can do that all over again and more. He wants to get cleaned up and then kiss the bits of Draco he hasn’t seen up close yet. He wants to try some of the things he’s fantasised about. He wants to get Draco to talk dirty to him in that posh drawl of his until they’re both incapable of saying much at all. 

Draco rolls his eyes. “It takes more than an over-sized cock to impress me, Potter. I’ve had a lot of sex. It might be difficult to keep up.”

“Okay,” Harry says, easily. “Whatever you say.”

Draco narrows his eyes at Harry and then huffs, flicking his wand and shoving Harry’s clothes into his arms. “Put your fucking pants on, will you? Stop showing off.”

Harry laughs and pulls on his clothes. When he looks up, Malfoy is watching him with an unguarded expression caught somewhere between bemusement and hunger. Harry winks at Draco and holds out his hand. “Ready?”

Draco exhales slowly and nods. “As I’ll ever be.”

Harry raises his eyebrows and squeezes Draco’s hand. He clears his throat. “You can set the pace, if you like. As you have all that experience. No rush.”

Draco looks pleased and the tension leaves his shoulders. He shoots Harry a smile, his lips even more distracting now Harry knows the pleasure they’re capable of delivering. “You’re probably going to fall madly in love with me after this.”

Harry nods. “Probably. Gryffindors are a bit like that.”

Draco stares at Harry, his smug expression faltering. When he speaks, his voice is clipped and sharp. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.” Harry kisses Draco on the corner of his mouth and whispers against his lips. “Trust me?”

There’s a silence which stretches between them before Draco speaks again. “Always.”

Of all the things Draco has said, Harry likes hearing that the best of all. 

Harry kisses Draco again and his lips are sweet with the promise of new beginnings.

**Author's Note:**

> come and say hi on [tumblr!](https://writcraft.tumblr.com/)


End file.
